


In an Instant

by StupidFaceRob



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Family, Flashbacks, Memories, Nightmares, Other, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidFaceRob/pseuds/StupidFaceRob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Spoilers for Avengers: Age of Ultron)</p><p>Wanda Maximoff experiences happy and yet unwanted memories in the worst moment of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In an Instant

**Author's Note:**

> A short practice piece to get back into writing after almost a year away. This is just a quick study into Wanda Maximoff and what happened during and after THAT moment. 
> 
> Again, spoilers for Avengers: Age of Ultron. Come back to this when you've seen the film. I promise it'll be better for you that way.

The amount of information a brain can comprehend in an instant is beyond any words. In such a miniscule space of time, for normal human timescales, the mind can race through so much time and history. Sometimes, the most inopportune times, it can even break a person. 

It had broken Wanda Maximoff. In a mere millisecond her mind had been filled with a flood of memories and thoughts. It transported her to places that, in that moment, she did not want to go. 

She was five years old and she had sand between her toes. Her brother Pietro was next to her on the sun-scorched beach. It was a rarity for them to be somewhere so enriched by light and life. People all around were laughing and running. The ice cream in her hand slowly dripped cold down her small fingers and her father bent down to wipe them with his handkerchief. His face was red and burnt from the sun, a pale almost-white where his sunglasses had protected him. The image had made her giggle. Pietro turned to see what was so funny and joined her. Their father gave them a stern but amused look as he returned to his wife. They lounged across large blue towels laid out on the blistering sand as they watched their children play. Pietro offered Wanda a crimson spade, his mountainous attempt at a sand castle needed a second pair of hands. She polished off her vanilla treat and licked her hand clean, savouring the flavour. Wanda put all her strength into digging the spade into the soft ground, scooping up as much sand as she could to impress her brother. 

And then she was 8 years old and in the grim grey of Sokovia, children not enjoying the sun but laughing meanly at her, pointing and saying things that made her eyes sore with tears. The almost daily occurrence of Artem Horvath teasing and shoving her was something she hated but had come to expect. He was the biggest boy in their year and was very popular, mainly due to fear of receiving the same treatment as Wanda. This day had started no differently and Wanda was once again on the cold, rain-wet ground of the small playground of their local school. Her upper arm ached from a punch she had received minutes before, and her knees, exposed from her long school socks and skirt, rubbed painfully on the concrete. Artem’s usual group of cronies gathered around him, egging him on and shouting. He smirked as always, a constant smirk that seemed etched on his face. The etching was not so permanent today. Like the first surprising bolt of lightning from a storm of dark clouds, it was erased from his visage and he hit the damp ground. Blood started to trickle ever so slowly from his nose as his eyes glazed over with tears. Wanda’s began to do the opposite as she looked up and saw who had laid the bully out. Pietro wore a smirk of his own, but a more triumphant and genial one. Pietro held out his hand and Wanda took it, rising up into a totally new environment. 

She was 10, green and red and blue flickering lights over her head illuminated the small room like lazy fireworks. A black cast-iron hearth added to the dance of light on the walls, it’s small fire burning inside as Pietro and their mother huddled close to it. Wanda looked across the room to the tree in the corner. It only stood about four feet high and was sparsely decorated, but it warmed her heart more than the fire. The smell of the pine needles coating the floor was one of her favourite smells in the entire world. Every year Sokovia went through an almost biblical winter, but she never minded that much for the short month and a half that their Christmas tree was up. Pietro shuffled himself over to her and embraced her, passing on the warmth he had extracted from their small cooking hearth. He had only just got home from playing with friends and needed to warm up from the bitterness of the icy streets. Wanda held his arms as they wrapped around her and laid her head on his. 

 

All of these images was inside her head in a single instant, playing in what seemed like slow motion. And in that same instant, she knew Pietro had been ripped away from her. A entire part of her mind was torn from her and inside her chest her heart, her entire soul, was slowly and painfully cracking and snapping into tiny, infinitesimal pieces. Despite the din and chaos of a whole city under attack, her scream echoed to every single corner. 

 

When the scream finished, Wanda inhaled hard and snapped back to where she was.  
“You’re safe, listen to my voice Wanda, you are safe with me”.  
Wanda shot out a hand to grab the person next to her, the person perched gently on the side of her bed. Her hand, ever so slightly tingling with her rouge telekinesis, gripped onto the bare arm of Natasha Romanov. Natasha placed her own hand on top of Wanda’s. She could feel the sweat of terrible, feverish nightmares on it. Something she knew a lot about herself.  
“Wanda, look at me, you are safe” Natasha whispered, placing a gentle hand on Wanda’s face. She slowly brought the shaken woman’s gaze to her own. They could just about see each other in the dim light of the lamp Natasha had turned on when she entered.  
“Did I wake you again Natasha?” Wanda stammered in her European drawl.  
Natasha gently stroked Wanda’s brown, damp hair and removed stray strands from her face.  
“No, I couldn’t sleep and was stalking about the halls like a creepy old woman”. Wanda quietly exhaled a laugh as Natasha continued. “I heard you thrashing about again. Luckily this time you didn’t throw half the room around with you”.  
Wanda reached up to Natasha’s hand and brought it back down on top of her own. She smiled in thanks and sleepily blinked at the red head.  
“I’ll let you get back to sleep. No bad dreams this time sweetie. I’ve had enough of those for the both of us”.


End file.
